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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28902099">One Day We're Going to be Alright</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaroid15/pseuds/polaroid15'>polaroid15</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of the Snap, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Feels, Fear, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Protective Peter Parker, Recovery, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:27:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28902099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaroid15/pseuds/polaroid15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, in the aftermath of a particularly vivid nightmare, it's hard for Tony to distinguish the fine line separating reality and his worst fears.</p>
<p>Tonight, it's Peter, and he refuses to breathe until he knows the boy is safe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Best Irondad/Spiderson Fics, The Best Peter Parker Whump Fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One Day We're Going to be Alright</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Heyo my friends :) I've been in my feels about Irondad lately and this is the result haha. 100% this happened in canon. Don't try and convince me otherwise lol. It's just a quick lil' fic but I hope it brightens your day :) </p>
<p>ALSO! I'm going to be participating in Febuwhump this year.. so buckle up and stay tuned!! It's going to be an adventure haha but I have some fun stuff written for it I'm super excited to share!!<br/>As always, I hope you enjoy!  xx</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>   Dust.</em> </p>
<p>   It’s everywhere. On his hands, under his fingernails. In his hair, on his clothes. It sticks like a memory and burns into his skin like fire, scarring him in some unseen way. Though it hurts, he can’t look away from it, feeling too shocked to do much else. It paints a story, represents a history, marks a grave. </p>
<p>   Then, without any warning, the wind carries it away. It leaves him alone, drifting somewhere far where he can’t follow. </p>
<p>   No matter how badly he wants to. </p>
<p>   It disappears from sight, and he blinks slowly, unable to believe it. </p>
<p>   Then everything inside him breaks, shatters, obliterates, like his soul has evaporated into dust but his body, by some horror, is left untouched. </p>
<p>   He has nothing to hold onto now. </p>
<p>   Gone. </p>
<p><em>   Gone forever</em>. </p>
<p>   He had just been holding the boy in his arms. Only moments ago. The strong, energetic, too-good-for-his-own-good-heart-of-gold-kid. The kid who followed him into space and wedged his way into his heart, who had reminded him what it was like to have purpose. </p>
<p>   <em>Peter</em>. </p>
<p>   <em>His kid. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>   I’m sorry. </em>
</p>
<p>He’s numb, impossibly so, like he’ll never feel again. Everything is gone. </p>
<p>   Everything. </p>
<p>   “Peter-” he calls out, voice breaking. He looks at his hands, trembling violently and streaked in black. “PETER!” </p>
<p>   But his voice only echoes, falling deaf to his surroundings. </p>
<p>   He’s alone. </p>
<p>   The world twists, and Tony is falling. He must be blind, because the world has gone dark. He feels trapped, restrained perhaps in his own grief. He calls out again, his voice ripping out of his throat. <em>“No!” </em></p>
<p>Something is wrapped around his limbs. He tries to kick away from it, to escape, to find Peter. Somewhere in the process he loses his equilibrium and he falls once more, landing hard on his elbow, the pain real through the haze. </p>
<p>   “I lost- I lost-” he pants, but can’t complete the thought. He’s suffocating though he’s sure he can feel the air around him. One of his hands wrap lightly around his throat and he feels, distantly, his pulse jumping through his skin. </p>
<p>   <em>Alive, alive. </em></p>
<p>   “I lost him,” he wheezes. “<em>I- I lost him</em>.” </p>
<p>   Whatever had been trapping him earlier has fallen with him. He wraps his fingers around it tightly until his knuckles ache, and is surprised by its soft nature. </p>
<p>   <em>A blanket, </em>he realizes. </p>
<p>   A dream? </p>
<p>   Refusing to believe it, Tony wrestles with the blanket to reach at his bedside table, knowing himself now to be in his room. He finds his phone in the darkness and holds onto it like a lifeline, bringing it into his heaving chest. The bright screen assaults his eyes and his fingers go numb, but he holds on. </p>
<p>   He can’t let go. <em>He can’t. </em></p>
<p>   It takes too long to unlock the device and he gets increasingly lightheaded as he struggles to force his fingers to cooperate. When it finally clicks open, it’s another agonizing battle  to find the contact he needs, though it’s the first one on the list. </p>
<p>   “I lost him. I lost him-” </p>
<p>   His thumb slams on a small icon, the air in his chest deflating so dramatically that he physically can’t pull in another breath. It rings once, twice, three times, then four. </p>
<p>
  <em>   “Hey! This is Peter! Um, Peter Parker. Leave a message I guess! If you want.” </em>
</p>
<p>He ends the call, dials again. This time, the wait feels longer. </p>
<p>   <em>“Hey! This is Peter! Um, Peter Parker. Leave a message I guess! If you want.” </em></p>
<p>There are stars in his eyes as he redials a third time. When it goes to voicemail again, the phone drops from his hand. </p>
<p>   “Please,” Tony begs. He’s not sure to who, only that it matters. “<em>Please.</em>” </p>
<p>   He pulls the phone into his hand again. Presses the green icon under Peter’s smiling picture. </p>
<p>   It rings once.</p>
<p>   Twice. </p>
<p>   “<em>H-hello?”</em></p>
<p>It’s raspy and weak, but it’s there. Full of life. </p>
<p>   <em>Not dust. </em></p>
<p>   Every bone in Tony’s chest implodes. He folds over himself, clutching the voice to his ear so fiercely a small part of him worries the glass will crack. Nothing else matters but the voice, though, so he hangs on tighter. </p>
<p>   Nothing else matters.  </p>
<p>   “Hello? Mr. Stark? Are- are you okay? It’s four in the morning-” </p>
<p>   It’s real. Peter’s alive. </p>
<p>   He’s not lost. </p>
<p>   He’s back. </p>
<p>   Tony <em>sobs. </em></p>
<p>“Tony!” The voice is more urgent now, the lingering signs of sleep gone. “Tony what’s wrong? Are you okay?” </p>
<p>   “<em>You’re alive,</em>” he whispers. </p>
<p>   “What? Of course I am.” There’s a pause, and Tony presses his palm on his chest to prevent his heart from breaking through his ribs. “Are you in your room?” </p>
<p>   Tony processes this, looking blearily around his surroundings once more. Through the glow of the screen, he manages to make out the details. “Y-yeah.” </p>
<p>   “Alright,” Peter says gently. “I’m coming.” </p>
<p>   “Coming?” </p>
<p>   “Yeah. I’m just down the hall, remember?” </p>
<p>   Tony’s brain short circuits. He hiccups, wiping the moisture off his cheeks. “What?” </p>
<p>   “I’m staying at the Tower for the weekend. Just- hang on. I’m almost there.” </p>
<p>   In less than a second, there’s a soft knock at Tony’s door before it opens. A thin strip of copper light falls into the room, rising up to meet Tony from where he’s leaning against his bed frame. Peter fills the gap, dressed in his pajamas and his hair mussed and crazy with sleep. He looks at Tony with wide, understanding eyes, his own phone still pressed to his ear. </p>
<p>   “Tony?” he whispers through it. </p>
<p>   “Peter.”</p>
<p>   Without further invitation, Peter crosses the distance towards him. As soon as he’s close enough, Tony pulls him into his arms, digging his face into the boy’s neck. He’s shaking, he realizes, but Peter is hanging onto him tightly, holding him together.</p>
<p>   He’s solid and real. </p>
<p>   Alive, not dust. </p>
<p>   “You’re okay,” Tony slurs. He can feel Peter’s heartbeat through his shirt, rapid with worry. </p>
<p>   “I’m okay,” Peter agrees. “Remember to breathe.” </p>
<p>   He tries, but it catches in his throat. </p>
<p>   “Try again.”</p>
<p>   He does. </p>
<p>   “Good,” Peter says, voice wobbling. He’s patting Tony on the back, his small hands gentle but sure. “That’s great, Tony.” </p>
<p>   For a while, they just stay like that. They stay until Tony can see through his panic, until he can breathe without it hurting and he’s sure Peter isn’t going anywhere. </p>
<p>   He releases the hug and falls back against the mattress, dizzy and tired. Peter shuffles awkwardly beside him. “Are you okay?” he asks. </p>
<p>   <em>Is he?</em></p>
<p>   “Yeah,” Tony says, his own words getting lost in his ears as if they’re stuffed with styrofoam. “Yeah I’m okay. I’m sorry.” </p>
<p>   “Don’t be sorry.” </p>
<p>   <em>I’m sorry. </em>The last words before dust. </p>
<p>   “I woke you up,” Tony says numbly. </p>
<p>   “Who needs sleep anyways?”</p>
<p>   “<em>You.</em>” </p>
<p>   Peter laughs, and the sound fills Tony’s aching chest like a sunbeam. He closes his eyes as they water. “Do you want to talk about it?” </p>
<p>   “No,” Tony whispers. “Just- just stay. Please.”</p>
<p>   “Okay,” Peter says, relaxing more fully against the mattress. Then, hesitantly, he scooches over until he’s pressed against Tony’s side. “I’ll stay.” </p>
<p>   A tear does fall this time, and Tony is too slow to catch it. He wraps one of his arms around Peter’s shoulder, accepting the embrace. They sit like this for a long time, until all the anxiety in Tony’s body has dissipated. </p>
<p>   Peter’s head is a dead weight on his shoulder, his breathing deep and even. </p>
<p>   “Kid?” he whispers. </p>
<p>   A light snore. </p>
<p>   Feeling warm, he tilts his chin to press a kiss onto the top of Peter’s head. The boy shifts in his sleep, collapsing more fully onto Tony’s side. Tony melts into it and closes his eyes. </p>
<p>   “Thank you,” he whispers, and it sounds so much better than <em>I’m sorry. </em></p>
<p>   He drifts off into a dreamless sleep, the most peaceful one he’s had in weeks. </p>
<p>   And in the morning, Peter is still there, and Tony can still breathe. </p>
<p>   And everything is okay. </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading and for all the continuous support and love &lt;3 Come hang out with me on tumblr @polaroid15<br/>See you on February 1st!!!!!!! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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